


Day 27: Whiskey

by faisyah865



Series: HiJack March Madness 2016 [27]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Day 27, HiJack March Madness 2016, M/M, hiiiii, madness16 day 27, not sorry, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 09:32:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6369592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faisyah865/pseuds/faisyah865
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he finally unlocked the door, he pushed it open and shut it with his foot, the click resounding through the empty house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 27: Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> I regret nothing.
> 
> Enjoy! Kudos and comments are appreciated!! :3

This was his, what? Fourth glass? Fifth? He lost count.

He asked for another glass, staring at the amber liquid with blank eyes. He was starting to feel the faint buzz of the alcohol, numbing his mind and his pain. He turned the glass round and round, the whiskey sloshing in different direction. It was mesmerizing.

He ignored every flirting attempt several people made to get him in their beds. He wasn’t here to get laid. He would never do that. He _couldn’t_.

His tolerance was pretty high, so it took him couple more glasses to blur his vision. But the grief was still _there_. It was lingering in his mind, crushing his heart, stabbing his soul. No amount of alcohol could drown it. The pain was too deep.

Sighing, he got and left a couple of bills on the counter and steadily made his way outside. The cold, biting air that hit him as soon as he stepped out made him stagger a bit, his mind sobering up just a fraction. He was sober enough to walk his way home without any incidents, thank God. But his feet wobbled as he swayed, knees threatening to buckle.

His hand shook as he tried to slot the key into the lock, missing a couple of times and making him growl in frustration. When he finally unlocked the door, he pushed it open and shut it with his foot, the _click_  resounding through the empty house.

The still air unnerved him, every noise like a nuclear bomb. He walked his way towards the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water and downing it in one gulp. He grabbed aspirin from the cabinet and climbed the stairs, leaning on the wall to support him.

He reached the bedroom and crashed straight onto the bed, kicking off his shoes and flinging them somewhere in the room. He still smelled like whiskey, but he couldn’t be bothered to shower. His body felt like lead, too heavy to move.

He rolled onto his side and laid his arm across the empty side of the bed, hands grabbing nothing but cold sheets. He grabbed a pillow and curled around it, pressing his face into it. He could faintly smell _him_.

Tears leaked out of his tightly clenched eyes, breaths coming in fast and hard as he sobbed, lungs trying to take in the air they needed. But it was as if there was a heavy weight on his chest, making it difficult to breathe in. Hands gripped the soft pillow tightly, knuckles going white.

It _hurts_.

_It fucking hurts so damn much._

The house didn’t offer any comfort as Jack cried into the night, the other side of the bed devoid of a lean body with freckles everywhere and brown auburn hair and a crooked smile and forest green eyes.


End file.
